episode_0015

They say all roads lead to Rome.

The unorthodox path eventually becomes the orthodox, and the pinnacle of orthodoxy becomes unorthodox. In the end, whether it’s textbook strategy or a sudden gambit, all methods converge toward victory when pushed to their limits.

Conversely, that also means if you lose, none of it matters.

And.

According to my personal belief that tactics are about reading the opponent’s hand and securing victory with your own, I had already lost this game.

The moment the Empress’ heavy cavalry successfully charged my horse archers, most of my options had been sealed off.

The infinite arrow spam using supply wagons was over the moment our position was exposed.

A significant number of my horse archers had been caught by the heavy cavalry, and most of our forces were already weakened.

The heavy cavalry, already struggling to hold back the Empress’ numerically superior imperial heavy infantry.

The only relatively intact force left was the Nabeq archer unit at the stronghold… The centaur archers firing broadhead arrows numbered less than a hundred, and there wasn’t enough time to wipe out the enemy with them anyway.

Enemy infantry were already preparing to smash through the wagons, breaking them down as they advanced.

‘The Empress has roughly 600 to 700 infantry left… Heavy cavalry… around 400 to 500. She also has about 200 archers, but their arrows are nearly depleted, so they’re effectively just infantry reserves.’

My horse archers, originally around 700 strong, had lost over 100, and the rest were on the verge of collapse from critical losses.

Well, I had been too preoccupied with miscellaneous preparations, leaving my main force weak, so this outcome was inevitable in a head-on clash.

‘Should I just give up…?’

Holding onto a game that’s already lost is just stubborn.

It wouldn’t be polite to the spectators outside waiting for this to end either.

Winning or losing—it’s not like anything major hinges on it. It’s just part of the lesson, after all.

There’s nothing to gain from gritting my teeth and holding out, and I’m not the type to stubbornly cling to something like this.

So maybe it’s more fitting for me to just hit surrender, throw out a few lines like “Wow, you’re good,” and call it a day.

It’s not like we’re that close anyway. Rivals? Responsibility? What reason do I have to stick it out?

‘Ugh, if she’d just taken an arrow and surrendered already. Why stubbornly hold on like this?’

Especially a pampered noblewoman like the Empress, who probably doesn’t even know what pain feels like.

“…….”

Setting aside my internal conflict, there were still a few things I could do.

For example, salvaging whatever horse archers I could from the chaotic melee.

Even if it meant friendly fire, pouring arrows into the fray would inevitably leave some enemies dismounted and immobilized.

If I could use those salvaged horse archers to push back the infantry surrounding these wagons even once, I might be able to break out and reengage elsewhere.

At the very least, all my forces could move at cavalry speed, and mobility was a huge advantage.

The exhausted enemy infantry wouldn’t be able to keep up, and with quick maneuvering, I might even shake off the enemy heavy cavalry.

If I got lucky, I might even get another shot at the Empress, still protected by her remaining forces.

‘Keep running circles around her until the arrow-struck Empress bleeds out…’

Desperate measures come to mind.

‘Surrender…’

Wouldn’t it be better to just hit surrender than resort to something so ugly? I don’t even like exhausting myself like this.

I can’t stand the idea of clinging so desperately to something in this life too.

Didn’t I just want to live comfortably, reading books and playing the Margrave’s errand boy, skimming by with the bare minimum?

‘Why should I try so hard?’

That thought slowly raised its hand.

What stopped my tongue from uttering “surrender” was the presence of a certain woman far beyond the battlefield.

The Empress currently playing this game with me.

‘Ridiculous. Why should I try so hard?’

The answer’s already there.

If I just hit surrender because my so-called rival lost, would that really make me a worthy rival?

Would others accept it if I irresponsibly bailed out like that?

……Would losing like this even be fun?

“……Haaaah. Responsibility is heavy.”

I lowered my hand once, then raised it again to run it through my hair.

My fingers clenched involuntarily.

“……This is why I said not to expect too much.”

The mutter slipped out uncontrollably.

Not that it’d make sense to anyone listening. But what could I do?

If Her Majesty the Empress calls me her rival, I should at least meet her halfway.

I don’t know why it’s 3-0, but I can’t just sit back and let it become 3-1, can I?

Shouldn’t the proper attitude be to make it 4-0 and tease her about it?

‘Alright, let’s do it.’

If a sheltered noblewoman can stubbornly cling to victory even with her body riddled with arrows, wouldn’t it be pathetic for someone with twice her life experience to whine about giving up?

‘There’s no other way.’

Even with resolve, my hand is still empty. All my options are blocked, and soon, I’ll lose even the ones I have left.

So the only thing left is to force a play.

It won’t be a shining draw, but a bloody one…

‘As long as this is still a game, there’s still a way.’

And.

‘I’m betting this match on the fact that the Empress isn’t heartless enough to abandon her own troops…!’

The next moment, I forced out a completely different command from my tightening throat.

“Nabeq archers───!”

‘……What’s happening?’

Sitting against a wooden pillar in a relatively safe area, her body still pierced with arrows, Charlotte could only watch in bewilderment as the situation unfolded before her.

Just moments ago, Baron Hebel had lost a significant number of his centaur archers to the attack. The remaining ones were bound to fall one by one under the heavy cavalry’s counterattack.

Once the horse archers outside were crushed, Baron Hebel—now stripped of all his limbs—would have no choice but to surrender or die inside the encircled wagon.

But.

Suddenly, some of the centaur horse archers weren’t fleeing. Instead, they were charging straight into the midst of the heavy cavalry.

‘A last stand?’

At first, that was her assumption. No, it was the only possible explanation.

What else could happen when lightly armored units engaged in close combat with fully armored heavy cavalry?

They were centaurs, yes, but throwing peasants with pitchforks at knights wouldn’t be much different.

It was practically a suicide charge.

And the next moment proved exactly what that meant.

Because it was a suicide charge.

Twang-twang-twang!

A flurry of short, sharp arrows rained down from the wagon’s defensive circle.

Their target? The exact spot where imperial heavy cavalry and centaur horse archers were tangled in a chaotic melee.

At the same time, the centaur archers fired indiscriminately into the heavy cavalry, too preoccupied with slaughtering their allies to react.

They didn’t care if their own were hit.

Of course, heavy cavalry armor wasn’t something ordinary arrows could pierce.

Even Solenarion arrows couldn’t guarantee penetration against imperial plate, let alone these simple reed arrows.

But the archers weren’t aiming for the riders.

“Hiiiiiiigh──!!”

Most of the screams came from the horses.

Legs and underbellies—areas difficult to armor, the traditional weak points used to neutralize heavy cavalry.

The centaur archers expertly targeted these in the chaos.

Only then did Charlotte realize the meaning behind this bizarre situation.

‘Sacrificing some of his own horse archers as bait… then using arrows to pin down the immobilized heavy cavalry?’

Even if heavy cavalry were masters of melee combat, wielding weapons required movement, and in such a chaotic brawl, their vaunted mobility was severely hampered.

Naturally, they couldn’t block or evade, leaving them to endure the arrows’ full force.

In a real battle, this would resemble the tactic of using spearmen to tie down cavalry before showering them with projectiles.

But here, he was throwing away his own elite horse archers, creating a melee, then mercilessly firing into it.

In Baron Hebel’s terms, this was a form of attrition warfare—though Charlotte had no way of knowing that.

All she felt was sheer disbelief.

‘……Is he insane?’

Everyone knew arrows were effective and that armor didn’t matter if you could immobilize the horses.

But everyone also knew that required precise distance and timing to avoid hitting allies.

Yet ordering your own troops to ‘die so we can shoot’ was something no sane commander would do, even in a simulation where soldiers’ lives weren’t at stake.

Who would tell their men, ‘Out of arrows? Then die’?

“Infantry…!”

Caught off guard by this absurdity, Charlotte hastily pulled some infantry from the front lines, where they’d been pushing the wagons, to reinforce the crumbling heavy cavalry.

She had archers in reserve, but they were out of arrows, and engaging in melee would only make them easy targets for the remaining horse archers.

Reluctantly, Charlotte had no choice but to redirect her infantry to plug the gap.

And the grand purpose of this friendly-fire massacre became clear the moment she did.

The moment the infantry surrounding the wagon thinned out, a group of dark-armored cavalry burst through the newly formed gap.

The very same ‘centaur noble heavy cavalry’ that had been struggling to defend the wagon.

And they weren’t alone.

“Gyaaaaah…!!”

As infantry were trampled under the combined weight of horse and rider, more centaurs surged out, as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

They must have decided holding the wagon was no longer tactically viable.

Breaking through the infantry and counterattacking was the better option.

And it was, surprisingly, the right call.

The one advantage Baron Hebel still had was mobility.

With his entire force capable of cavalry speed, there was no reason to rot inside a wagon.

As they charged out, they clashed with the imperial heavy cavalry still caught in the melee and the infantry sent to reinforce them.

‘I thought I had him…!’

Charlotte knew. Despite the chaos, she recognized what this formation meant.

The trademark of nomadic tribes like the centaurs.

Swarm tactics, followed by envelopment using horse archers.

While heavy cavalry pressed the front lines, the ‘fleeing’ horse archers would regroup and shower the exposed flanks with arrows, encircling and annihilating the enemy.

Unable to coordinate her forces from the rear, Charlotte could only watch helplessly as her troops were swallowed by this madness.